Wreck

That’s my luck
hydroplaning in drought
“Always” getting closer
than to the back of a Wal-Mart truck
skidding 180˚ backwards to eternity

That’s my time
born right in it,
of it, part of it
neither too early nor late
fitting in comfortably of no use
leaving no mark

That’s my style
formal attire under a skidrow tarp
ready to dance circles around police on the sweep
if you have no partner, grab a broom
and ride, witchy-poo
because

That’s my party
an afternoon of free grocery store samples
crackers, cheese
a shot of Patron coffee liquor
by myself and on the town, waiting
for security to say, “When!”

That’s my pride
wounded out the door

That’s my exit
forced

That’s my scrutiny
laser focused against
all who are not like me
not infected
I am Omega Man in negative
inverted, reversed, flipped and downsized
armed only with belief
that personality is illness
and all the well require sickening

That’s my asshole
shitting all over manicured lawns
this fertilizer’s better
let me give it to you
put it inside you
where wonders will be born
as we go the full 360 together
U.S. highway statistics in love

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